Vorkosigan House
by Eilonwy2
Summary: A work in progress from when Miles was 8. From Elena Bothari's point of view. *Updated again* Also, as suggested, 'Mom' is now 'Ma'
1. Hiding

Nestled deeply in the rose bushes behind Vorkosigan house, Elena Bothari, eight-year-old daughter to Sergeant Bothari, held her breath and prayed that young Lord Miles wouldn't find her.  
  
The hyperactive little boy, only a few months younger than her, had been hunting Elena all morning, trying to coerce his often-unwilling playmate into participating in one of his latest schemes, which more often then not ended in spectacular disasters. Like the tank incident, or the flowers that got guillotined, she remembered.   
  
She shifted her knees in the crumbly dirt and tucked hair behind her ears. It wasn't that she disliked Miles, it was just his talent for creating trouble that irked her. He could be a lot of fun, although he tended to go to extremes in everything, (the mock firing squad really hadn't needed a real stunner to "kill" a dummy)   
Although she was fairly certain that this wasn't intentional, Elena was sometimes the one to take the fall when an indiscretion was discovered. Another scapegoat was Ivan; Miles' cousin who was fair game for going along with schemes that often got him into trouble.   
  
Not that Miles' parents were unfair. On the contrary, they were very impartial, the Countess sometimes frighteningly so. However, much of the household was a teensy bit hesitant to report Miles to his parents, as he was disadvantaged in a few glaringly obvious ways.  
  
Elena signed and hugged her knees. The eight-year old wondered how much Miles was bothered by his medical problems. She found it hard to imagine what it would be like to fear that a simple tumble could shatter a fragile bone.   
She certainly had seen him break enough of them to gain a secondhand appreciation of the pain it caused. 


	2. The dinner party

She jumped involuntarily as the side door opened with more force than was necessary and quick, light footsteps were heard.   
"Elena?" Miles called.   
She sighed mentally; this was getting silly and stood up. "I'm over here, Miles." She said, stepping out from behind the bush.   
  
His face lit up. "Oh good. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go swimming before dinner. It's no fun by yourself and Botha-your dad doesn't really count. Plus he doesn't' want to. I already asked."   
  
Elena smiled slightly, "No, I guess not." She tried to picture the laconic, uniformed man frolicking in the water and couldn't'. "Sure, I'll go grab my suit."  
  
Miles' face brightened even more. He was already dressed in a pair of old shorts that he often swam in, the metal braces he wore more apparent than usual, gleaming shiny on his skinny legs. "I'll meet you there!" He turned to run off, but stopped abruptly. "Oh wait. Um, don't let anybody know where you're going. And if anybody asks you where I am, tell them I'm still in the bath. It'll be partly true, anyway."  
  
Elena opened her mouth to protest, but he was already scampering off. Not like it would have made any difference, she thought and went inside to change.  
  
  
  
Later that evening, Elena and Miles sat at the dinner table, trying not to squirm. They both had sand in their shoes; a consequence of shoving feet into footwear without wiping them first. Neither of them had remembered to bring a towel to the swimming hole, but in retrospect going barefoot would have been better.   
  
  
Sneaking back inside, minutes before dinner, they'd only had time to throw clean clothes on and scoot to the table, amid disapproving looks from the adults. Tonight of all nights was when Lord and Lady Vorkosigan had company and dinner was more than just a casual affair. Especially when Lady Vorpatril happened to be the company. It wasn't that Elena disliked her exactly, but she had a certain formidable presence that made you feel the need to inspect your hands for dirt and stand up straighter.   
  
This evening Lady Vorpatril was resplendent in a dress of a serene shade of blue. Her small son Ivan, only a little older than Elena and Miles, slouched in his seat, ruining the line of his freshly ironed dress clothes. He didn't look pleased to be there either.  
  
The dinner was excellent however, fresh fish in a fragrant white sauce that was simple enough to appeal to the children while satisfying the adults. However, the vegetable medley, however crisp, well seasoned, or tender the bits in it were, was a point of contention between the parents and the children.   
  
Under the rise and fall of alternatingly boring and interesting adult conversation, Elena stifled a giggle as Miles scrunched his face up into a parody of disgust after a forkful of broccoli. Across the table, Ivan choked on his glass of juice, nearly spraying the immaculate tablecloth in front of him. His mother turned slightly from her conversation with Lord Vorkosigan to look askance at him, but did nothing but arch an eyebrow. Miles' father looked blandly in the other direction, but his mouth twitched.   
  
Lady Alys resumed the conversation smoothly after a hairsbreadth pause, "Tell me Aral, how is Gregor's education coming along these days. I have not visited the imperial residences since returning from our trip. I expect he is doing well?"  
  
Vorkosigan cleared his throat, "Yes, he seems to be picking up on his studies nicely, although he has been a trifle distracted recently. That can be easily explained by the horse he got for his birthday."  
  
Lady Cordelia Vorkosigan snorted, "What is it with Barrayarans and those animals? He's as horse-mad as Miles here. Or Piotr."   
  
Miles grinned impishly at his mother. "Aw, but horses are great, Ma." He bounced slightly in his seat, mundane things such as eating dinner forgotten in the presence of one of his favorite subjects.   
Cordelia opened her mouth to answer but he stiffened suddenly and interrupted. "Oooh, can me and Elena show Ivan Grandfather's new foal? Can we, can we?!"  
Cordelia held up a hand. "Wait. First of all, the food on your plate needs to be eaten. Second of all, it's good manners to ask someone before you volunteer their services. Thirdly, it's "Elena and I", not "me and Elena". However, ONCE dinner is finished, and Elena and Ivan are interested," She glanced at Lady Alys who nodded assent, "you may lead an expedition to the stables."  
  
The little dark-haired boy nodded in eager agreement. "Yes m'm. Elena and I. Elena? Ivan?" This last was said pleadingly. Ivan glanced at Elena, who shrugged. "All right."   
  
Miles jerked his chin up, satisfied. "That's all settled then."   
  
*** 


	3. In the stables

***  
  
  
The air in the stables was fragrant with the unique scent of horses mixed with straw and hay. Elena watched her father wordlessly turn on more lights while Miles drafted Ivan to help him drag a stool from the tack room up to the door of the largest stall. The adult Vorkosigans and Lady Vorpatril had retired to the sitting room for conversation and coffee. There wasn't really an extreme need for Sergeant Bothari to come along but a faint look of alarm had crossed his normally taciturn face at the thought of the three of them alone with the horses.   
  
Despite her father's slightly dampening presence, Elena found herself getting excited about seeing the young foal. Although she wasn't as enamored of horses as Miles, the complex animals still gave her a thrill.   
  
The foal's mother, a comfortable-looking mare named Constance snuffled wetly and thrust her muzzle over the stall door, searching for hands holding food.   
Miles, perched on tiptoe on the stool, stroked her absently, much more interested in the spindly legged creature at her side. He made clucking noises at the baby horse, trying to coax him nearer.   
  
"If we had some food, maybe it would come closer," Ivan suggested. He looked only marginally interested.   
  
"He's not an 'it'" Miles corrected with a long-suffering tone. "He's a him and his name is Mouse."  
  
Elena grinned and went to grab the sugar cubes from a shelf on the back wall. "You should have seen him when he was first born. He was much smaller then. That's why General Piotr let us name him Mouse.  
  
"Oh," Ivan said, looking slightly bored or maybe disappointed that the name wasn't more noble sounding, but he followed their lead anyway and took a few sugar cubes to offer as a bribe for Mouse to head towards them.   
  
The three of them had just convinced Mouse that the food they held might be worth moving away from his comfortable spot in the straw for, when Sergeant Bothari glanced at his chromo and said calmly, "Alright, It's time to go in. Bedtime."  
  
"Okay," Miles rolled his eyes, but didn't surprisingly didn't plead for anymore time. Elena supposed that was because he knew he could come here just about every day. Ivan simply shrugged and wiped his sugar coated palm on his pant leg, leaving a sticky trail on the formally pristine fabric.   
  
Elena fed her sugar cubes to Constance, who took it upon herself to lick the proferred hand clean.  
  
Then she followed everybody inside. 


End file.
